


In the After

by GRINtelligencer



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Period-Typical Racism, references to violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 21:11:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8416840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GRINtelligencer/pseuds/GRINtelligencer
Summary: Faraday wakes up after Rose Creek. And ain’t that the kicker.An Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies AU





	

**Author's Note:**

> This movie completely blindsided me with how much I liked the characters and I sort of accidentally'd a fic. This one is a little rambely but I had a lot of fun with it.
> 
> A lot of this is written on my phone and formatted afterword so I apologize for any typos that snuck by me.

 

 

Faraday wakes up. And ain't that the kicker.

He coulda thought for sure that wasn't going to happen. As soon as those bullets had hit he'd known he was a dead man, that's why he'd gone and lit that dynamite.

But here he was, opening his eyes and everything. Not as planned.

There was the weird floaty feeling that meant someone had scrounged up some laudanum but it he could already feel the burn of injuries creeping through.

“Look at that. _Pendejo_ got around to waking.” Vasquez’s ugly mug cut off his view of the ceiling, a smirk cutting across his face. “Finally, sleeping beauty.”

“Ugh.” he said and closed his eyes again. No luck, just made him more aware of all the fuzzy edges of his brain and he had to open them again. “How long have I been out?”

Vasquez leaned back, smile slipping as he crossed his arms over his chest. “About a week.”

He tried to sit up and immediately regretted it, pain cutting sharp through the laudanum haze. Vazquez made an annoyed sound and stuffed a couple of pillows behind him.

“You open your wounds I'm gonna laugh at you.”

“Yeah yeah.” Faraday huffed. “Quit mother-henning and tell me how we did.”

“See for yourself.” Vasquez said, nodding at the opposite side of the room.

Faraday squinted across the room, finding three cots set up, though only one was actually occupied. The other likely should been but Goodnight apparently wasn't what the docs would call a good patient. He was sitting in a chair next to one of the cots, leg propped up on on the edge with a folded blanket under it. His chest was a real nasty criss-cross of bandages but that beat the alternative by a long shot.

Looking up from the book he also had propped on the bed Goodnight gave him a scowl. “Took you long enough,” he said and turned a page.

Faraday was opening his mouth to reply to that when Vasquez nudged his shoulder, grin back in place. “Don’t let him give you that shit, he’s angry he lost the bet.”

“Yeah well,” Goodnight turned another page with exaggerated care, “It’ll be the first time I’ve ever lost money betting on Billy’s punctuality.”

Leaning up slightly more, Faraday saw that it was indeed Billy Rocks in the other bed, looking about the same color as the sheets pulled up over him. Still out like a light too, which couldn’t be a good sign.

“He ain’t woken up at all?” Faraday eased himself back down onto his pillows, wincing when even for that bullet holes protested.

“Nope.” Vasquez said, popping the word. “Not like you, in and out all day.”

“The others?” he asked, flicking his fingers at the third vacant cot.

“Horne woke up two days after the fight.” Vasquez said, “Got filled with arrows but who would let that keep them down, eh? Already he’s getting up to pray at all hours.”

“Least he takes his chatter outside.” Goodnight said pointedly.

Ignoring him Vasquez took a half smoked cigar from a pocket and chewed on the end thoughtfully. “Rest of us, we go through with our hides mostly intact. The three of you caught enough bullets to even it out. Mrs Emma’s been putting us up.”

“Kind of her.” Faraday said absently.

“We saved her town,” Vasquez pointed out. “The Magnificent Seven, the town’s talking about it already..”

“Fancy.” Faraday said. “I feel right respectable with a name like that.”

“I’m sure that’s new sensation,” said a voice from the door. Letting his head fall to the side Faraday saw Sam Chisolm, a steady, immovable force, leaning against the doorframe with his hat dangling from one hand.

“That it is.” he said. “That makes six, where’s the indian?”

“Red Harvest is helping the good folks of Rose Creek lay up some meat for winter.”  Chisolm said, “We’ve all been getting tired of twiddling our thumbs waiting for you to wake up.”

“Hey, don’t look at me,” Faraday jerked his chin at the other bed. “I’m all bright eyed and bushy tailed now, blame our resident chinaman for bein’ pokey.” The smile he aimed at Chisolm, might have been a little undermined by the fact his eyelids were already heavy. Hell, this was pathetic, he was going to make sure next time he went to blow himself up he did it properly. He yawned so hard he thought him jaw was going to crack right off, where the hell had this come from?

“Get some rest.” Chisolm said. “See you when you’re up again.”

“I’m not tired.” he protested.

There was a snort of disgust from Vasquez but the other man was already pulling the pillows from behind him so he could lay down.

“Shut up _muchacho_.” Faraday muttered, feeling sleep already pulling him down again.

When he woke up for a second time he could tell before he opened his eyes, in that way that had kept him alive more times than he liked to count, that there was someone sitting nearby. He kept his breathing even, his body still, and slitted an eye open.

The silhouette of Mrs Emma was distinctive among their sorry group of misfits, what with the lack of hat or beard, Faraday knew it well enough from the trip back to Rose Creek at the beginning of their sorry adventure to recognize it now, in what seemed to be sunset light. She sat in a chair near his bedside, mending something with careful stitches.

“Ugh.” he said and tried to shift in a way that wouldn’t pull anything, “It’s real sweet of you to sit bedside and all,” he pulled the most mournful face he could manage, “Makes me feel all warm inside.”

She huffed a laugh, but set her mending down to come to his bed, “Sorry to disappoint but I was as keeping watch in case Mister Rocks woke up so Mister Robicheaux’d get some air as I was keeping watch over you.”

“I’m crushed.” he said, still mock mournful but he was already looking across the room. Sure enough, Billy was exactly as he’d been before, although someone had gone to great pains to line up those silver knives of his along the edge of his blanket. Damn if that wasn’t a little creepy. “How’s he looking other than the, you know, not waking up?”

“Infection.” she said, going to the cot and fussing with the blankets, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles out. “We’re doing what we can, but it’s in God’s hands for the most part.” Mrs Emma laid the back of her hand on his forehead and sighed, “He has a fever that hasn’t broken.”

“Well, shit.” Faraday said. “Um, pardon my language.”

Mrs Emma shrugged, coming back over to him, “Housing you gentleman has been an education in more ways than one. I imagine an expanded vocabulary is the more benign of those things I’ve learned.”

He remembered the sure way she’d held that rifle and the sight of men who ventured too close to her roof falling dead. “I suppose so. Now,” He gave her his best winning smile, “You wouldn’t happen to have a drink of something on you? A little whiskey?”

“I doubt that would be something the doctor would recommend.” Mrs Emma said, “But I can at least give you some fresh bandages. Here, let me help you sit up.”

Between the two of them they got his bandages changed and she helped him into a clean set of trousers, ignoring the way he waggled his eyebrows at her during the procedure. A shirt seemed like more effort than it was worth with the bandages all over his chest and arms but trousers were enough to make himself respectable for the good people of Rose Creek.

He hobbled down to Mrs Emma’s kitchen feeling rather accomplished, collapsing into one of the kitchen table chairs. There the woman who had sewn up Horne’s jacket before the shootout served him some stew that smelled so good it lured the rest of the motley crew in from the various corners of the house and even from outside.

Chisolm clapped him on the shoulder and told him it was good to see him up and about as Vasquez took the chair next to him. After examining him with a smirk Vasquez reached over and tried to steal the heavy slice of bread the townswoman had given him with the stew. Smacking him over the back of the hand with his spoon set off a small smack fight that only ended when the townswoman shoved another bowl of stew and slice of bread in front of Vasquez.

By then Horne and Red Harvest had seated themselves and Horne had begun a long and impassioned prayer, hands clasped firmly in front of his bearded face. Goodnight took his bowl with a nod of thanks but headed upstairs, leaning heavily on a cane someone must have crounged up somewhere for him. Not much later Mrs Emma came down to settle at the table, accepting her strew with a word of thanks.

“Goodnight on Billy-watch?” Faraday asked.

“He says it’s probably best that someone familiar is around when Mister Rocks wakes.” Mrs Emma said. “Though I’m not sure why.”

Tearing off a chunk of bread Chisolm sopped up the remains of his strew, thoughtfully. “If I made my life of throwing knives and living on the edge I imagine waking up wounded in a place I didn’t know I would be fairly startling.”

“Startling?” Faraday echoed.

“You want a panicked knifeman stabbing someone who happens to be standing too near when he wakes up?” Vasquez asked. “Better there be a familiar face there.” And the fact that that familiar face would work best if it was Goodnight went without saying.

Leaving it there conversation turned to other things, mostly the state of affairs in Rose Creek while Faraday had been out. Apparently they hadn’t been slacking while he was snoozing away, bodies had been buried, fires put out, and the slow work of rebuilding had begun. Without much to occupy them the less injured of their group had fallen in with the townsfolk, wielding hammer and shovel and whatever else hellish farming tool they had in these parts.

They seemed content enough to do the work, which almost made Faraday glad to have been shot and burned to hell, he’d make a pretty shit farmer.

Perhaps reading some of this on his face Chisolm put his spoon down and regarded him solemnly. “I doubt we’ll be staying here long after folks are well enough to ride. Now that you’re up and about I’ll make you the same offer I made these gentleman.”

“What kind of offer?” Faraday asked, glancing around the table. Red Harvest was inscrutable as always but Horne was looking at him, the picture of hopefulness. Mrs Emma had that direct, ernest look she’d had at the beginning of this mess. Only Vasquez seemed unaffected, munching on a second piece of bread which, Faraday glanced down next to his bowl, yeah, that had been his bread. Chisolm speaking again kept him from retaliating.

“There’s some bounties a man can’t track solo.” he said carefully, “Big bounties for big groups. If you were so inclined once everyone’s in a state to ride I’d like to start tracking some.”

“You mean… like a team thing?” he asked.

“Well, seems a shame to break up the group what with our name spreading all over already.” Chisolm grinned, “The Maleficent Five doesn’t sound as half impressive.”

“Five?” Faraday looked around the table, “You lot have already signed on for this dog and pony show?”

“I don’t see why not,” Horne said, in his oddly squeaky voice, “I’ve spent too long up in the mountains without company. And this cause is as righteous as any.”

Faraday poked Vasquez in the arm, “And you?”

“How better to hide from the law than with the lawmen? Besides, won’t be bored this way.” Vasquez shrugged shoving the rest of his pilfered bread into his mouth and chewing industriously.

When Faraday turned his incredulous look on Red Harvest the other man shrugged. “It is my path.” he said as if that was his final word on the matter.

“You aren’t telling me Goodnight agreed to this.” Faraday shook his head, “I don’t believe that for a second.”

“As I live and breathe, he said yes.” Chisolm said, “Ask him yourself if my word isn’t enough. Now there’s just you and Billy and we’d have the whole bank in on this adventure. So how about it?”

Faraday shook his head, patting his pockets for his card deck (which someone had been kind enough to put at his bedside). He slid the cards out into his hand as he considered the offer. Shuffling them gave him something to do with his hands as he turned over the idea of going back to the life he’d lived before. Him and Jack going from poker game to poker game, riding the edge of danger while well lubricated by copious amounts of booze. Always running from the last outlaw he’d fleeced, the last cowboy he’d gotten on the wrong side of, the last lawman whose boots he’d thrown up on. Running, running, running until he hit the wrong side of a bullet or a blade and it was all over.

He cut the deck. Shuffled the cards. Looked up at Chisolm. “I guess it couldn’t hurt to give it a try.”

Chisolm’s chuckle was like a roll of thunder as he smacked a hand down on the table. “And that’s six!” he said, grinning. “Now we just need Mister Rocks awake and we’ll see if we have our whole band.”

On that note the group broke up, Faraday heading back upstairs, using the wall the prop himself up more than he liked. With a decent meal in him for the first time in days his body was already demanding sleep.

As expected Goodnight was back in the chair he’d been in before, his leg propped on the edge of Billy’s cot again, a book once more in hand.

He wanted to ask him exactly he thought he was doing signing on to be a warrant officer again after what had happened before the shootout but for once Faraday just didn’t have the energy to run his mouth. Red letter day, stop the presses, he was too tired to say something stupid.

Instead he tossed his cards onto the bedside table and eased himself back into bed, falling into sleep not long after his head touched the pillow.

The next day he woke at a right respectable hour, got fed with the others and idled about when most of them left to some industrious labor or other. He tried to take a nap but mostly ended up irritating Goodnight with his attempts at conversation until the other man threatened to feed him his cards.

That sent him out to skulk around the house until dinner which was a somber affair. Billy still hadn’t woken and his fever remained.

None of them were much with the doctoring but the town doctor, already a man well above his head, had thrown up his hands and declared that it was out of his hands, there wasn’t anything else he could do. According to him either the fever would break or it would kill him, only god knew now which was more likely.

The night saw most of them huddled in the sickroom, all pretending that wasn’t why they were here. He and Vasquez played hand after hand of poker, both cheating extravagantly but too distracted to do more than snarl at each other over it. Chisolm dozed, or at least pretended to doze, propped up on one of the cots’ headboards, arms folded over his chest and hat pulled over his eyes, waiting for what would come.

As the night wore on Billy alternatively sweat and shivered, twitched and muttered snatches of phrases in some weird language. Mrs Emma and Horne worked together, Horne fetching basin after basin of water as Mrs Emma tried everything from laying cool cloths on him to sponging him down to keep Billy from cooking alive.

No matter what they did he got steadily worse as the night went on.

Goodnight stayed huddled over by the window where he’d retreated with Billy’s knives when he began to talk in his sleep. His eyes full of shadows as he watched without a word. He was afraid, that was plain as day.

Tension hung over the room like a pall.

Finally dawn came and Horne took over from Mrs Emma, letting her slump, exhausted onto the unoccupied cot. Chisolm stopped pretending he was asleep to help him, as Faraday Shuffled his cards with unwarranted force. Sometime during the night Red Harvest had taken up residency in the doorway, watching events with a solemn eye.

An hour after dawn Billy stopped muttering and lay so still that Faraday found himself clutching the deck in his hand hard enough the stack was bending.

Chisolm leaned over Billy, resting a hand on his forehead. “Fevers broken,” he announced and no one bothered to hide the fact they were breathing out a sigh of relief.

That was when Billy’s eyes snapped open. He took one look at Chisolm looming over him and smashed the top of his head into Chisolm’s nose, making the other man stagger back. In a continuation of that movement he was off the bed and halfway across the room before Faraday could do more than drop his cards.

He would have been out the door and down the stairs if not for two things happening in quick succession. The first was Billy staggering, probably feeling the pain of a half dozen still healing bullet holes all at once. The second was Horne grabbing him, wrapping him in his massive arms. That halted the other man, at least until Horne made the mistake of lifting him off his feet, probably meaning to pull him back to the cot. Next thing they knew Billy’s foot lashed out and Horne howled, dropping him.

Instead of landing in a heap like a normal person would Billy rolled, fetching up against the doorframe. He didn’t seem to notice Red Harvest who had moved back from the doorway but was clearly ready to block the way if needed. Billy’s eyes darted around the room, not seeming to actually focus on any of them as his breath stuttered in his chest.

With his bum leg that was how long it look Goodnight to get across the room and his voice, usually mellow cut the air.

“ _Hey_ ,” he barked, making the whole room freeze. With a wince he lowered himself onto his hanches, eyes on Billy. Slowly he set one of Billy’s knives, still in its silver sheath on the floor and gave it a push. The dagger skittered across the uneven floorboards, spinning around and around until it bumped up against his leg.

Reaching down, Billy wrapped a shaking hand around the handle of the knife, but didn’t raise it.

There was a long, still moment as he looked at the knife then up at Goodnight.

“Hey there.” Goodnight said, grinning wide enough to show his gold tooth. “Good to see you decided to join the party. We’re all alive.”

“Goodie?” Billy’s voice was a rasp and he sounded a little unsure as he frowned at him.

“Yeah, its me.” Goodnight said quietly, “Now quit being dramatic before ya open up something.”

Faraday waved from his shared cot as Billy raised his eyes from Goodnight to look around the room. “Howdy.” he said, best ‘promise we’re all alive not please don’t go stabbing someone’ grin in place.

Billy blinked at him once, twice, then the knife slid from his hand and he slumped to the side, unconscious again.

With a snort Vasquez threw his cards down, “See, that’s the way to do it.” he nudged Faraday with his boot. “None of that just opening your eyes nonsense. If you don’t break two men’s bones you are not doing it right.”

“My bones aren’t broken.” Horne protested from where he was still hunched around his leg.

“Count yourself lucky he wasn’t going for leg breaking then.” Goodnight said, levering himself back to his feet with a wince and a grunt of effort. “Someone put our over-enthusiastic friend here back on the bed, please.”

It was Red Harvest who did it, since Horne was busy prodding at the bruise rising on his leg. Billy was settled back on the cot and Mrs Emma pulled a fresh set of blankets back over him once she quickly checked under bandages to make sure nothing was bleeding.

Vasquez raised his eyebrows at Chisolm which made Faraday crane his head around to look at the other man who was pinching his bleeding nose. Pulling a kerchief from his pocket to mop at it there was the flash of teeth. The bastard was smiling.

“What are you so cheerful about?” he demanded. “Gettin’ your nose busted make you happy?”

“Well,” Chisolm’s grin grew several teeth wider, “Magnificent Six wouldn’t have sounded as good.”

They both blinked at him for a moment then Goodnight let out a peal of laughter, sinking down onto one of the cots. “Sam Chisolm, you are one peculiar son of a bitch.” he said.

That shook the lot of them loose, snorts all around and tired smiles. They broke up, some to claim beds for a few hours, others to face the day, and Faraday snuck out so he could figure out where they’d stashed Jack. One horse in an entire town could have been difficult to locate but Teddy Q saw him sitting on the porch of Mrs Emma’s house and trying to pull on his boots and took pity on him.

After they got his boot settled right Teddy, who apparently survived the shootout in more or less one piece, asked what he was up to. From him he got the location of the field his horse was in and the stable his tack was stashed at though he waved off the man’s offer to walk him to the field.

He might not be the fastest man, burn wounds and healing bullet holes still hurt like hell when he moved too fast but he got there eventually. And under his own steam too, which made him feel a little better about how slow a pace he had to set.

As soon as he leaned on the fence Jack trotted up. The first thing the damn horse did was stick his nose in his hair and wuffle through it.

Laughing he pulled him off and petted him, crooning endearments. Jack had seen him through enough, he could afford to be the crazy man talkin’ to his horse just for a bit.

After a bit he went to find the stable Teddy said his tack was in, it’d been too long since he’d gone for a ride he was starting to feel twitchy. He needed either a ride of a drink and his saddle was going to be easier to find than decent whiskey.

Unfortunately his saddle turned out to be heavier than he remembered and as soon as he lifted it off the pug the burn wounds on his arms pulled. Hissing out through his teeth he dropped the saddle back down. Too bad he was too much of a mess to try to ride bareback.

“Going?” someone asked and Faraday’s head whipped up fast enough he almost brained himself on one of the wooden beams. His hand went automatically to a gun only to realize that he wasn’t wearing his gunbelt and his heart started racing. Then he actually turned and saw who it was.

Red Harvest raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “Leaving?” he asked, nodding at the saddle.

“Naw,” Faraday said, telling his heart to calm down, Red wasn’t about the shoot him, it was _fine_ that he’d walked up to him and Faraday had been too caught up in his head to notice. “Just wanted to ride some. Clear my head, you know?”

“Yes. I do.” Red Harvest said and he took a tentative step forward, “You want, I help you saddle up?”

He blinked at him, as much for the right unexpected offer as the camaraderie that it represented. It'd been a long time since there’d been someone he could trust to saddle up Jack without losing an arm. Even Billy, quick as he was, has barely made it out of the stallion’s reach that one time on the road to Rose Creek he'd drawn Jack's ire by walking too close.

But Red Harvest has gotten along with Jack from his first arrival and Jack was the best judge of character Faraday know. Other than… maybe Chisolm.

So he let Red Harvest lug the tack out to the field for him. As he did up buckles and tightened straps Red Harvest did the parts that involved heavy lifting or hard pulling. It should made him itchy to know that he couldn't even saddle his horse himself, that that meant he was all but trapped in this town.

Somehow it didn’t.

Once Jack was saddled Red Harvest helped him mount up then opened the field gate to let him out. After that he wandered off, leaving Faraday to his own devices.

Faraday skirted wide around town, avoiding places where people might be, like the nice even rows of crops coming up nice in the ground Bogue had claimed was no good. Under him Jack seemed to be picking his steps carefully, somehow aware that his rider was still on the mend. His route took him out to where the gatling gun had been set up and the scorched ground that was all that marked the place. Out to where he'd almost blown himself to kingdom come and only survived by the luck of the devil.

The blackened patch of earth might or might not have shown up a few times in his dreams since the battle but under clear daylight it wasn't particularly menacing. Just dirt and scorch marks, nothin to trouble himself over.

He rode on, letting Jack ramble a bit until the ache of wounds had his turning back to the paddock.

Red Harvest sat on the fence, rubbing some sort of smelly wax into his bowstring. When Faraday rode up he stowed both wax and sting in a pouch hung on a fence post and wiped the excess wax from his hands. Then he rose to help Faraday unsaddle and groom Jack without Faraday needing to ask.

When they were done it was just about lunchtime and they walked together to Mrs Emma’s house.

Inside they found that the whole group had taken a break from their daily tasks to come back to eat instead of eating a plowman's lunch in the field. The reason was obvious as soon as Horne shifted slightly and over his shoulder Faraday saw the Billy was sitting at the end of the table with Goodnight planted firmly on his other side.

Billy looked real pale and hadn’t bothered to pull a shirt over the bandages on his chest and arm but he was awake. There might be new pain lines at the corners of his eyes but he seemed to be following along with conversation fine, though he didn’t seem to be participating much.

Taking the two free chairs he and Red Harvest nodded their thanks as Mrs Emma set plates in front of them before claiming her own place at the table.

“When’d you awake up for real?” Faraday asked Billy, “And how many bones did ya break this time?”

“Bones?” Billy’s voice sounded as creaky as a an old barn door as he frowned at Faraday. Goodnight poured something from a pitcher into a chipped cup and pushed it across the table. Ignoring it Billy turned his frown on Chisolm, “You said--”

Chisolm, whose nose was a little swollen, bruising coming up under his eyes, just visible under his dark skin, waved the words away. “Water under the bridge.” he said easily. “I should have known better than to lean over you.”

That was how it came out that Billy didn’t remember a thing about the first time he’d woken, apparently the second time he’d just opened his eyes and asked Goodnight how the hell they’d ended up in the same afterlife.

Since Faraday had been fairly surprised when he found himself alive he could sympathise.

With Billy finally up and about Chisolm made him the same offer he’d made the rest of them in just about the same words he’d use the Faraday. Billy took even less time the he had to think about it before he was nodding agreement. “Not much else to do.” he said. “When do we leave?”

“Doctor said he reckons it’ll be about three days before most of you gentlemen should be riding hard.” Mrs Emma said. “Four days for you, Mister Rocks, after that fever.”

“Than we’ll leave town four days.” Chisolm said. “Make what preparations you need to.”

With that they finished eating and broke apart again, some folks back to tasks, others to early packing.

As it turned was a good thing they’d already set the leaving date, Rose Creek a nice place, full of pleasant normal type people, but it was starting to grate on Faraday. He wasn’t the only one, by day two Billy was out in one of the fields scaring the living daylights out of folks with knife practice. Faraday’s normal games with Vasquez started to get more and more competitive as they tried to keep the boredom from setting in.

Horne seemed to like he was liking town life well enough but over dinner he admitted he did miss traveling. “Too much time here is no good for these folk.” he said. “Best we let them get back to their lives.”

No sense in outstaying their welcome, best to leave while there was still the chance of a warm welcome if they ever needed somewhere to hole up. He been living rough too long not to see the value in that. If they left this way, there would always be Rose Creek to come back to.

That last night around the table Mrs Emma disappeared back into the kitchen as most of them started finishing eating. She emerged accompanied by an amazing smell, holding a cake tray. “I thought… since you all are leaving tonight. We might have a bit of something to celebrate.”

Since, by her own omission Mrs Emma didn’t much like baking it was a nice gesture, there certainly weren’t any complaints from any of the seven. Freshed baked cake after a couple weeks of simple town food hit the spot and not long after the tray hit the table the portions were cut out.

Mrs Emma, tasting her portion thoughtfully declared that is was ‘all right’ but she could do better next time.

“Well,” Goodnight told her, setting down his fork on his empty plate, “We’ll have to come back for that next time, eh? This tastes exceptional.”

Faraday rolled his eyes, “Those fancy fifty cents words of yours.”

“I can define it for you.” Goodnight said sweetly and Chisolm shoved Faraday back down in his seat with a laugh.

“Now gentlemen, let’s not leave our last night with a fight in Mrs Emma’s lovely home.”

“Calm down _pendejo_ ,” Vasquez said, “He’s just still sour he lost that bet.”

Horne leaned forward around Faraday to ask him, “What did you bet?”

“That reminds me, pay up.” Vasquez wiggled a hand at Goodnight who rolled his eyes and fished in his pocket.

He tossed a small leather pouch, just about the size of his palm on the table for Vasquez to triumphantly scoop up.

“What the hell is that?” Faraday asked and Vasquez obligingly shook the bag out over his palm.

The splintered remains of several bullets fell into his palm and Faraday felt the cold lick at the back of his neck.

“You kept your bullets?”

Goodnight shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest, “Seemed like the thing to do, since the doc was kind enough dig ‘em out.”

Shaking his head Vasquez rose, scooping the bullet fragments off his palm. “No one should carry their almost death around in their pocket.” He nudged the window open and Goodnight started to rise.

“Hey now--” he stopped when Billy tugged on his sleeve and sighed.

“Let it go, Goodie.”

With a huff Goodnight collapsed back into his chair. Vasquez tossed the bullet fragments out the window and pulled it shut decisively. “That’s bad luck, that is.”

Superstition aside Faraday had to agree it was just crazy, he hadn’t even put a thought toward the bullets the doctor took out of him. That wasn’t what he was looking to carry back out of town.

“Well, gentleman,” Chisolm folded his hands on the table, eyes a steady weight on each one of them, “I’d say tonight’s the night for settling in early. Dawn’ll come sooner than you’d think.”

With only a little more conversation they broke up, drifting off to find beds and gear and the like before the morning came.

Faraday rode out of Rose Creek with six men, bound toward a life of semi respectable bounty hunting.

He finds he’s almost looking forward to it. And ain’t that the kicker.

 

\------------

end.


End file.
